


Scorpion Grass Grows Thorns in Hearts

by poptod



Series: The Kings Love [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Confusion, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Overdose, True Love, fem!queen, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-08 16:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: You awake in a hospital, all memory erased from your mind due to an overdose that they won't give you more information on. Eventually you get picked up, finding out that you have four best friends, and one of them is sick with something they can't yet identify.(Takes place in 1974.)





	1. Read Yourself in Her Tell

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it's short, it's a bit of a teaser i suppose. enjoy!

Light…

light.

How long had it been dark?

You opened your eyes, bright fluorescent lights shining above you.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice said beside you. Opening your eyes further you noticed the enclosed, clean beyond hell space you sat in. Beside you a woman stood, checking something on a monitor, taking readings from your skin.

“Where am I?” You asked, voice dry and croaking. She hushed you, handing you a glass of water with a patient smile.

“Drink. You’re in a hospital,” she informed you, turning back to the monitor. A few more taps you didn’t pay attention to and she grabbed a clipboard, sitting next to you on a chair.

“I need some basic information about you. What’s your name? We don’t have you on record anywhere, and no ones checked in for missing persons.”

What’s your name?

What’s your name…

_What’s your name…_

“I’m… not sure,” you mumbled, holding the paper cup of water close to your mouth. You saw her hesitation, heard her intake a short breath.

“Alright, who’s the Queen?”

Queen?

That sounded familiar. You must’ve had a Queen.

“I’m sorry, I - I -“

“It’s alright. Do you remember anything before the accident?”

“Accident?”

Her breath halted. Without word, she stood, and left.

A man came in, dressed in a lab coat, holding the clipboard with a concerned look.

“J. Doe… I’m Dr. Fisher, I’ve been taking care of you for the past week or so. I’m sorry to inform you that you’ve appeared to lost all memory before your accident, according to your nurse, Cohen. I’d like to just confirm some things,” he said.

He asked you the same questions as before, his look of concern only growing. His bedside manner in speech was rather good, but he didn’t seem to have control over his facial expressions.

“I understand this can be a traumatizing event. If you need to talk, just ask,” he said, his questioning now apparently over. He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned to leave.

“I was wondering something, actually,” you said just before he left. He turned expectantly, waiting for you.

“What was the accident? What happened?”

“Overdose,” he answered.

The next day, two women came in, asking for someone matching your description, saying that they weren’t at their apartment when they went searching. You stood to the side, peeking out from behind the corner of your room. Fortunately for you, the front desk was right in front of your room.

“We do have a Doe who’s gotten some memory loss, doesn’t remember their name. Matches your description,” the woman at the desk said, shuffling through some papers, her eyes darting to you. “They’re being taken care of by Nurse Cohen, right over there.” The woman at the desk pointed to you with the papers in her hand. The two women who had come searching turned, instant recognition in their eyes. You shrunk in on yourself.

Did they know you?

“(Y/N),” one of them, shoulder length black hair came over with quick, long steps. Behind her trailed a blonde. You didn’t recognize either of them, shrinking further behind the wall. They both stopped, noticing your apprehension.

“You recognize them?” Cohen, sitting in your room, asked the two women.

“Yes, we’re good friends,” the black haired woman said. “We were touring in America and we had to come back because Maggie got sick, so we came looking for (Y/N), but they weren’t at their apartment, so we got worried,” she turned to you, “but it’s good to see you’re okay.”

Cohen stood, saying something quietly to the black haired woman. You drowned the noise out, wondering if this was real, or if perhaps they were lying. What if they were deceiving you?

“_Nothing_?” The blonde asked in a harsh whisper, her eyes darting back and forth between you and the nurse.

“I’m sorry to say so,” Cohen said quietly, turning to you with a nod.

“I, uh - my name is Melina,” the black haired woman stuttered, holding her hand out to you. Gingerly you took it, shaking weakly.

“I’m… Liz,” the blonde introduced herself. She did not hold her hand out.

“I’m guessing I’m (Y/N)?” You asked, a shaky laugh escaping you. This wasn’t a humorous situation, but you thought you ought to try anyway.

“Our other friends are in the other room actually, since we had to check Mags into the hospital. They’re running a bunch of tests but you can come see her?” Melina suggested with bright eyes, probably hoping that’d trigger some memory. Maggie must’ve been important to you.

“Okay,” you agreed, and with permission from Cohen, you followed the two out the door, and into a room two down from yours.

Sitting on the bed, looking positively sick, was a woman with a fantastically curly head of hair. She had to be the girl they were talking about, Maggie - the only other person in the room was a girl with long, brown hair.

Melina opened the door for you, allowing you and Liz in first before she entered. Before you or Maggie could say anything, Melina rushed over, explaining the situation to an increasingly distressed Maggie.

“Lost _what_?!”

“Please don’t yell,” you mumbled through gritted teeth, your ears sensitive.

“Still as anti-confrontational as ever, aren’t you? Don’t know a thing about yourself and you’re still avoiding fights,” Liz sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Shut up, Liz,” Maggie hissed, attempting at sitting up before groaning in pain and lying back down.

“Take it easy, you know what they said,” Melina hushed her, helping her with pillows and blankets. The room settled into uncomfortable silence, you being a complete stranger in a group of people that supposedly knew you very well.

“Um… so, uh, how do I know you all?” You asked after a while, arms crossed as you leaned uncomfortably against the wall.

“Funny story, actually -“ Liz started, quickly interrupted by the brunette.

“It’s a bit inappropriate,” she said quietly, glaring at Liz.

“(Y/N) seems to be the same general person, I think it’ll be fine,” Liz retorted. “You were playing piano at this bar, what was it called? Never mind, not that important, you don’t work there anymore. Anyway we were all piss drunk, except you of course, and so Maggie got up on the piano and started singing and she fell down on top of you, which I think embarrassed the both of you.”

Maggie looked highly self-conscious about the story already, and you weren’t close behind, face a bright red blush.

“Then it was like closing time or something, and we were too drunk to know top from bottom so you took us to the hospital ‘cause Belicia punched a window and needed stitches, and you stayed with Maggie till morning ‘cause, I think you said she -“

“That’s enough! All in all we were very grateful, and we became friends after that,” Maggie stopped Liz mid sentence, turning to you with an almost panicked look.

“I play piano?” You asked, astounded.

“_That’s_ what you got out of that?” Melina asked incredulously with a belt of a laugh, flopping down in a bedside chair.

“To be fair I don’t know much about myself and it’s always nice to get more information,” you pointed out, voice clearer than it had been before.

“That _is_ fair,” she nodded, a sage look on her face as she stroked her chin methodically. She seemed one for the theatrics.

“What do you all do for a living?” You asked, gesturing vaguely around the room.

“Actually we’re in a band,” Liz said with a proud nod.

“Called King. I sing, Maggie’s on guitar. Liz plays drums and Belicia over there plays bass,” Melina explained, nodding towards the brunette in the chair.

“Are you any good?” You asked.

“I’d say so. Though we had to come back here from our tour because of Maggie,” Melina sighed.

“I told you before I’m _sorry_,” Maggie curled in on herself, shoulders coming up to her ears in her own embarrassment.

You continued asking questions, eager to learn more about yourself and what was once your life. They had little to offer, telling you that they ‘can’t tell you this thing because it’ll spoil some things,’ which was a terrible excuse, but you agreed anyways.

What you noticed the most during your time with the four women was how Maggie looked at you. As other people spoke she did not turn to them, instead taking in your reaction, a potent emotion you could not identify clear in her watchful eye. When you spoke she absorbed every word like gospel, paying attention to every lilt in your tone, every choice of your words. It scratched at your mind, making you curious as to the nature of your relationship with her. She seemed to miss you, though you were right there.

You guessed you could understand that.

You only really pieced this all together when Belicia took you outside to talk privately with you later in the day.

“I want you to know that this is rather hard on Maggie. The two of you were close, so don’t be too surprised if she tries to get close to you again,” she advised, a tender, almost motherly look in her eye. You nodded in understanding, turning your gaze to watch her through the blinds poorly covering the glass. Inside she laughed, lips parting in a bright smile as her eyes crinkled.

“She is… beautiful,” you murmured, subconsciously drifting closer to the glass.

“You always say that.”

Did you?


	2. Who We Once Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step in piecing yourself together is to ask questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty short but thats okay I think i did a good job on it let me know if i didnt by bullying me harshly in the comments

To Maggie’s luck, she didn’t have to have her arm amputated. After a few tests a diagnoses was quickly reached - she was apparently sick with gangrene in her arm, which the band speculated had come from a tainted needle when they were getting shots done during inoculations. The doctors gave her a few weeks before she’d get better, detaining you till she got out.

The rest of the band, however, had other things to do, like recording more songs, leaving you and Maggie, a girl you apparently knew quite well, very alone.

You came to her room one morning, finding her already awake and writing something down in a notebook.

“Um, may I come in?” You asked gingerly, peeking out from behind the door. She looked up immediately, her face brightening from the contorted and intense expression it held before.

“Yes! Of course, you’re always welcome in here,” she said, setting her book down in her lap and closing it. With careful steps you entered, making no noise as you sat down on the bedside chair.

“What are you writing?” You asked, keeping your voice quiet.

“Just… songs. Don’t know why. Passes the time I guess,” she shrugged, looking down at the plain notebook. She twirled the pencil in her hand.

“You are in a band. Makes sense to write songs,” you said, a humorous lilt in your tone as you smiled.

“I know, I know,” she laughed. “I just don’t know if… if they’ll find someone new. ‘Cause, you know, I use my arm to play guitar, and if I lose the use of my arm, I don’t think that I’d be much use.” Her voice grew quiet as she finished.

“Nah, they’re too smart to let go of someone like you,” you brushed off her concern, hoping she’d believe you.

“Someone like me? You’ve never even heard me play,” she giggled.

“Oh… you should, um, play for me sometime, then,” you suggested.

“I will,” she promised with a smile.

Later into the conversation she mentioned being hungry, so you left to get yourself and her a snack from the lunchroom. Most of the food you had to pay for, but some of it was free, so you ended up grabbing two muffins - one for her, and one for yourself, before returning.

“Thank you love,” she said as you handed her the muffin, sitting down beside her. You shrugged, beginning to eat away at your own. Halfway through, in total silence, you gathered the nerve to ask your question.

“I know that this might be… a… well, a sensitive topic for you. It’s not great for me either but - what’s our relationship? To each other?” You did not look at her, afraid of what her eyes may tell.

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” she half laughed, but was evidently worried.

“I’m intuitive,” you snapped, looking directly at her. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“You always were,” she murmured.

“… Right, and I can tell that you miss me.”

Why did you feel the unadulterated need to comfort her? You owed her nothing. You didn’t know her. Maybe you did at one point, you probably did, but you didn’t now.

“I’m sorry about that, really. I know this has to be difficult for you as well. I just… you’re right. We were close,” she sighed, confessing half the nature of your friendship.

“We can be close again if you’d like,” you said, gaining a small smile as she at last looked up at you.

“I’d like that.”

You weren’t stupid. You couldn’t have been _just friends_. From simply the way she looked at you, longing and practically needy, it would take a complete idiot not to see anything. If you weren’t in a relationship before, it was obvious Maggie wanted to be. Though, from how openly she pined, it would come as a surprise to you if neither of you had confessed at some point.

From how terrible she felt, you thought it best to avoid talking about how she looked at you.

“What was I like? Before all this?” You asked, folding your hands together tightly in front of you. She paused, her mouth parted slightly as she chose her words.

“You certainly weren’t quite as anxious as you are now. You really… enjoyed life, as it was. Little things excited you, like stickers and flowers,” she said, giggling lightly to herself, lost in her memory of what you once were.

“I sound like a child,” you laughed heartlessly, unimpressed on what you were.

“There were moments when a lot of people thought that, but then you’d turn around and just absolutely blast them away with these long rants you had about needing to appreciate the world around you to be happy, and that degrading others for being joyful was a terrible, soulless thing to do, honestly - it was something else.”

She still spoke of you like she was remembering a lover.

“That’s, uh, interesting. I don’t really feel like that right now. I don’t know why,” you murmured, your voice growing ever quieter as you continued. It felt almost shameful, that you couldn’t match up to the person they all knew. But Maggie just smiled, a sympathetic, accepting smile that reminded you that she didn’t care as long as you were alright.

She was… beautiful.

Especially when she smiled.

You couldn’t really describe it, the emotion that rolled off her and swirled around you when she smiled like that. You thought maybe quiet would do it, but your heart seemed to pump louder than ever, so you thought perhaps tender would describe it better, but that didn’t seem right either.

So many things at once, and so simply put together.

All of it in her.

“I’m still going to be your friend, by the way. I told you once that I’d always be your friend. I’m not backing out now,” she said, her eyes promising to keep her word. You nodded, knowing she would. She didn’t seem the type to break a vow like that.

“I believe you.”


End file.
